The Sweet Spot Discovery
by Nocturnias
Summary: Sherlolly. Sherlock makes an interesting discovery while making out with Molly. Further investigation is needed. Rated M to be safe. Belated birthday gift for MorbidbyDefault.


A belated birthday gift for MorbidMegz; one of the sweetest, most fantastic people I've met in this fandom. Her prompt for me: "Sherlock finds Molly's favourite 'sweet spot' when they are snogging…however, he doesn't understand what he's discovered, and spends a significant amount of time researching the topic."

I hope you like it, sweetie! Happy Belated Birthday!

Sherlock Holmes was nothing if not observant.

So, when his girlfriend of three days, Molly Hooper, began squirming during a passionate snogging session on her sofa, he brought everything to a stop, staring at her with his luminous, calculating gaze.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Molly said, her voice breathy and earnest. "Absolutely _nothing_ is wrong! Why did you stop?"

"You were wriggling about like a fish on a hook," Sherlock replied.

"Was I?" Molly asked. "I was too busy enjoying being snogged to notice."

"It happened when I touched the back of your leg," Sherlock said. "I need to repeat the incident to see if I get the same result."

"Incident?" Molly echoed. "That's not very romantic, Sherlock."

"This isn't romance now, Molly; it's science. Do be quiet so I can kiss you again."

"But-" Molly's feeble attempt at a protest died when Sherlock began kissing her, with even more passion that before. Her lips parted against his as their tongues gently tangled, and she sank her fingers into his hair with a sigh. She could hear him breathing harder with this second kiss. _Wait. Is he turned on by kissing me, or by this "experiment"? she wondered._

Sherlock gently brushed his lips over the side of her neck, and Molly decided she didn't really care why he was so turned on, as long as he didn't stop. As his mouth trailed a warm line slowly down her throat, the fingers of his right hand crept down from her upper thigh to just above her knee. Molly whimpered, shifting to give him easier access (fortunately for both of them, she was wearing a short skirt) and he grasped her leg behind the knee and lifted it up onto the edge of the sofa.

Molly whimpered again as his fingers began a slow, exploratory slide from her knee. He deepened the kiss, swallowing the little sounds of pleasure she made, and she was lost in his touch again. She was vaguely aware of his hand moving lower still, and then his fingers brushed over a place halfway up the back of her thigh and…

"There!" Sherlock exclaimed triumphantly, keeping his fingers in place. Molly groaned. "It happens when I touch you exactly there. You start writhing. Why is that?"

"For God's sake, Sherlock, stop snogging me senseless and then, well, stopping!" Molly exclaimed. She made to get up, but he swept an arm under her knees and tugged her closer to him, gently bending her legs so that he had full access to the backs of both her thighs.

"Sherlock!" Molly exclaimed. In this position, he could clearly see her lavender skull-print knickers. She cursed herself for not having worn something sexy, but then, she'd not expected him to show up unannounced at her flat at 11 at night. She should have remembered who she was in a relationship with, Molly realized ruefully.

"What?" he asked, confused. "We have seen each other naked, Molly; albeit under non-sexual circumstances. Does it bother you for me to see you now, when we are in an intimate relationship?"

"No, it's just that… oh, bloody hell, never mind," she sighed. "Maybe we should call it a night, Sherlock."

"And risk affecting the outcome of the experiment? Never!" he exclaimed.

"Sherlock! For the last time, our soon-to-be sex life is _not_ an-"

Sherlock bent his head and caught her chin in one hand, tilting her head up and once again covering her mouth with his. His other hand covered a breast through her blouse and bra and she moaned. His thumb caressed her nipple, and it rapidly hardened into a taut peak under the sensual touch. Molly moaned again, arching against him, once more at a loss to continue protesting. How could she, when he was touching her like that?

The hand that had been cupping her face moved down again, sliding over her waist to her thigh and then a bolt of pure pleasure shot through her as his fingers caressed the same spot on her other leg, making her moan and…_oh. OH. _

When he lifted his head again, Molly slipped a hand behind his neck, preventing him from going far. "Sherlock," she panted, "You've found my sweet spot! That's what that is!"

"Your "sweet spot," Molly?" he asked, confused again.

"Yes. It's a nickname for a perfect place. It's used to describe a lot of situations, but it also means an erogenous zone," Molly said. "When you touch me there, it's like a pleasure explosion."

"How is it that you didn't know this?" Sherlock asked.

Molly shrugged. "Never been touched there that way before. Not all men are as… thorough as you."

He raised his eyebrows. "A terrible oversight on their parts." He pressed a sweet, fleeting kiss on her lips. "Obviously I need to continue my investigation and determine the best way to obtain this "sweet spot" response from you. And see if you have any others that need discovering. Shall we continue this research in your bedroom?"

As he nuzzled his cheek against hers, Molly smiled. Maybe mixing science and sex wasn't such as bad thing after all.


End file.
